


Whining & Crying

by WhatICantShowYou



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, Facials, M/M, Non-con to Dub-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Terrible Employment Conditions, The Slowburn “/Oh./“ But Bad, Watersports, emeto, piss drinking, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/pseuds/WhatICantShowYou
Summary: Prompted work from anon where Geralt forces Jaskier to drink his piss when he can’t ration his own water.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 105





	1. Whining & Crying

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags, please. This is very self-indulgent and disgusting if you’re not into the content.

Jaskier didn’t know any better. He had grown up in luxury and with an abundance of basic necessities. Once he was out on the road by himself he hadn’t even had to worry, never between towns or small farms for longer than a few hours, always able to either buy or flirt himself into whatever he needed if money was tight. Even when not getting coin tossed his way, Jaskier knew how to play them all right until they threw him their last pieces of bread to have him shut up, stuffing his trousers with it before evacuating to his room to gulp it down with water he ordered from a pretty lady at the bar.

He didn’t know any better _and Geralt knew that._ The witcher was being an absolute arse on purpose by punishing Jaskier for something he he had no experience with: poorly rationing his water intake on a searing summer’s day. They hadn’t stopped for lunch like they normally would, so there wasn’t even a chance for him to fix his mistake. At least he had managed to munch down one of his sandwiches and savoured the taste of freshly baked bread a fee hours back, aware that it was now dry and useless to his cause if he opened up his backpack for another bite.

Even worse was the fact that Geralt seemed completely unbothered by the heat, his own waterskin bouncing on the side of Roach in tact with her steps, filled to the brim with liquid. An hour after emptying his own, Jaskier had trotted up and snatched the pouch from Geralt to have a little taste, the waterskin promptly stolen back faster than the bard could comprehend and a snarl alerting him of his wrongdoings.

“I just need a little, a mouthful and then I’ll be fine!” It landed on deaf ears as the witcher gave him a snappy lesson in rationing, making it very clear that the man would have to learn to do so very quickly if he wanted to keep him company on the road. When Jaskier gave up on fighting back, Geralt promised they would stop by a stream soon enough so he could refill his own pouch, but to  _ stay away from his _ until then.

Oh, how Jaskier tries to be good after that. They walked for hours, never once stopping nor even attempting to stay in the shade from the blazing sun. So the human did what he did best and started whining. If he wore the witcher down enough he would find them a stream to shut the man up, right? _Hell_ , a puddle would be enough at that stage. Except Geralt didn’t as much as acknowledge him, just giving him unamused glares from time to time and then making Roach speed up just the tiniest bit to have Jaskier jog to keep up, effectively making him be silent once more.

It wasn’t fair. While Jaskier wasn’t sure how witchers worked per say, there had to be something in their mutated bodies making them able to regulate their water intake. Geralt hadn’t even reached for his waterskin more than a few times, dressed fully in black and barely even sweating. He didn’t  need all that water, could easily spare the human a few drops and not even notice, yet still he refused. But Jaskier’s plan was working, slowly etching away at his exterior with his insistent whining and complaints until the other just  had to crack.

He just hadn’t anticipated how.

It was from one moment to the next, Jaskier licking his parched lips while moaning out for the millionth time of the day that he just needed a few drops, a stream or just a little rest! Anything, really!  _ Please, Geralt! _ Then the witcher was off his saddle in an instant and crowding him on the small gravel path, backing the human up until they were just off the road and standing in the short grass. He stopped the moment Jaskier did, staring him down with furious, golden eyes.

“You want something of mine to drink? Fine!” Two heavy hands landed on Jaskier’s shoulders, pushing him down to his knees without letting up. A confused stutter came from the bard, his eyes flicking up to Geralt’s as he shook his head and tried to explain himself, backing down on the kind, but very much confusing, offer his witcher was making. He didn’t even have time to snap his jaws shut before the warm length of his cock was forced past his lips, missing entirely when the man had managed to free himself from his trousers.

It was no use struggling, Jaskier still trying despite the vice grip Geralt had on his jaw and shoulder. He was not budging, instead slowly sinking further inside of his mouth until he was just millimetres from knocking the head against the back of the bard’s throat. Not a single expression crossed the witcher’s face as he parted his legs just a little extra, like getting in position to-

_ Oh. _

Jaskier’s struggle renewed at the realisation, but it was too late. Geralt let go of his bladder and within moments the bard’s mouth was flooded by his piss, filling up every crevice and corner before forcing it’s way down his throat to settle in his stomach. His fists furiously hammered against the witcher’s thighs, tears gathering in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. The witcher had the underside of his hand pressed hard against Jaskier’s jaw to keep him locked in place as he pinched his nose shut, leaving no way for him to breathe through the ordeal unless swallowing the horrid liquid. The stench and taste was dreadful, salty and disgusting as he was forced to swallow it in order to not drown from the unrelenting torrent of _fucking_ _ piss .  _

If only Geralt would as much as smile, or smirk the way he always did when teasing Jaskier for something. Instead he was just staring him down with an unamused look, nothing in his eyes making it clear it was a prank or even an inconvenience to the man. Nor did he even seem to enjoy himself, just dumped his bladder inside Jaskier’s throat to shut him up so they could be on their way again. 

Jaskier’s stomach felt heavy by the time the flow tapered off, the last few drops landing on his tongue but Geralt not pulling out until he had swallowed it all down dutifully. His head was spinning with frustration and nausea, Jaskier sobbing as he slammed his fists against his thighs again, this time without any power but mostly to just make a statement. The witcher stepped back the moment he let go of Jaskier’s face and shoulder, moving out of the way as he stayed just out of reach to study the bard. 

Jaskier wanted to scream, to cry even harder while curling up in a ball on the grass and forget about the entire fucking day, but the moment his airways were clear he breathed in long and deep before another sob wracked his body. His breath stuttered, being swallowed down the wrong pipe and forced back up with a hiccup. He knew what it meant, the nausea flaring up even worse as he could smell and taste what he had brewing inside of him. 

With a weak whine, Jaskier doubled over and puked his guts up. Yellow, acrid liquid was all that came up, Jaskier’s dignity mixed in with the mess he was expelling. More tears forced their way down his face as the piss flowed out between his lips, bubbled up his nose and ran down from there as well. He spent a good few minutes dry heaving after the initial expulsion, the smell and taste making him retch as soon as he thought he was done. Another quick round came up his throat as he hiccuped, Jaskier not even having the power to properly be sick anymore and letting it just run down his tongue and out his mouth into the grass. 

He sat there for a few more minutes before he could as much as look away from the mess, averting his gaze as he saw that Geralt was stood there watching him. There were still no emotions in his face, his expression blank as he just waited. At least he had stuffed his cock back inside his trousers, laced himself up and let the bard take his time revelling in his own misery and humiliation.

“I’m-“ Jaskier winced at the raspy texture to his voice, his throat burning from the acrid liquid he had swallowed and then gotten back up. He didn’t even try to continue is sentence, not even sure what he could say to fix whatever had just happened. Instead he stared down at his own shaking hands for another minute before rising to his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears and remainders of piss on his chin and lips before walking on unsteady legs back to the road, waiting by Roach’s side until Geralt was back up in her saddle.

He stayed silent as they continued on their way, the salty taste still in his mouth by the time they settled down next to a small river for the night and Geralt motioned for him to drink his fill. 


	2. Shame & Tears

The bard had gotten better at rationing his supplies over the months spent together with the witcher, purchasing a second waterskin with the meagre pay he got at an inn just in case as well as making sure not to complain whenever his stomach growled.

“I can hear it, no need to tell me,” had Geralt growled one morning and promptly shut up Jaskier for the rest of their travels. It wasn’t that he was scared - He wasn’t. He couldn’t be scared of Geralt. He had promised him the first day they met that he wouldn’t be and he did not intent to start now - but he could not get the _incident_ out of his head. The humiliation and nausea he had felt for hours on end after puking his guts up in the grass next to the road. 

Instead Jaskier did his best to block the whole thing out, be good and brave for his witcher and prove himself worthy of being his companion. He never once touched the man’s rations, didn’t whine when the weather was bad, swallowed down his pride as he walked hours on end with a sprained ankle. It paid off. 

Except for the moment Jaskier found himself tipsy on ale and alone in their shared room, Geralt out on a contract and not meant to be back for another few hours. His cock rose to the occasion and he was no man to deny himself the pleasure of a warm hand after a good evening, lapping at his palm before taking himself gently for a start. His mind wandered to the lady downstairs pouring drinks for the lonely men, the milkmaid in the stables going to bed alone after treating Roach to something for the night, to Geralt feeding him his cock before letting go of his bladder—

Jaskier startled himself with the thought, the more or less repressed memory flaring back up and making him cringe with shame and humiliation. Yet his cock only ached harder as he flushed a deep red all the way to his torso, twitching at the recollection as all those emotions came flooding back. Only this time, his intoxicated mind laced them with lust. 

He came hard as he imagined Geralt doing it again, forcing him onto his soft member to swallow down his acrid waste before leaving him to deal with the aftermath by himself. A lone plea for the man to _stop!_ escaped the bard as he fisted his cock relentlessly, moaning and bucking his hips as he spilled all over himself. 

It took another week for Jaskier to as much as acknowledge the night had happened. He was walking on needles around the witcher, any of his snarling making him freeze up and the way he barked out orders had Jaskier shuddering.

_Nothing good ever came from ale_ , he mused as he palmed his cock harshly through his trousers, leaning back against a tree just out of Geralt’s sensory range as he pretended to be busy collecting firewood. He choked down a moan while fishing his member out, imagining himself on his knees in the short grass with the other holding him still in a vice grip. A plea fell from his lips as he threw his head back, jerking hard and fast so he could get back to camp before Geralt decided to go looking for him. The shame filled him as he could practically taste the salty liquid on his tongue again, the feeling only making him impossibly harder as he rested his back against the tree trunk as the pleasure came over him in waves, almost knocking him to the ground as he came hard.

“Jaskier—“ 

Time stopped for a moment as his eyes snapped open to see Geralt watching him, the witcher just as surprised as himself at the display before him. Had he heard him? How much had he seen? Hell, witchers could read fucking thoughts for all the knew about them. Geralt surely knew and the thought made true humiliation creep into his bones. To his horror, his cock twitched eagerly at the feeling and made him wince.

Geralt made no sound, didn’t even move as he stared the bard down. He just stood there, watching. Studying him. Like back by the gravelled path as Jaskier threw up. He didn’t know he could get hard so quickly after spilling himself once, even less so as it was the furthest from what he wanted at the moment. 

“You...” Geralt fell silent as he searched for the words. He looked like he was treading on dangerous water, looking for the right words for the occasion as if he hadn’t just seen Jaskier jerk off against a tree while pleading for him to piss down his throat again. Something changed in his posture as he took one step forward, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit and making a shiver run down Jaskier’s spine. “You are a disgusting whore, huh?”

Jaskier didn’t know he had it in him to go from just chubbing back up after an orgasm to rock hard by the push of a button, yet he strangled a groan as he gripped his cock hard to not start fucking his fist again. He was disgusting, all he wanted was for the other to use him like that again, like he didn’t matter and was just an inconvenience to him with his whining and moaning. Geralt closed the distance between them in two short steps, the bard already down on his knees by the time he was close enough to grab at his hair harshly. With a quick tug, he forced Jaskier to look into his eyes, leaning the tiniest bit closer as he took a deep breath, as if smelling the air around them, scenting his humiliation and lust.

“Want another lesson in what’s mine and what’s yours?” Jaskier nodded eagerly, head swimming as he could barely form coherent thoughts anymore. He wanted it so badly - needed it! Fuck, he was about to come again from the mere implications. He whined as the witcher tugged at his hair again, snarling out a vicious “ _Use your words,_ ” before staring him down.

“Y-Yes please. _Fuck_ \- I need it Geralt...” he sounded so wrecked, like he was cockdumb without even as much as seeing the man’s length in months. It only made the shame come back tenfold, a cold shiver going through his body as his dick twitched. How had he ended up like this?

Geralt smiled a mocking grin as he unlaced his trousers with his free hand, growling as Jaskier tried to help. He fished out his member and stroked it for but a few seconds before presenting it to the bard. He wanted him to do it, to take his cock and swallow it down his throat and Jaskier felt the humiliation ramp up as he wanted it as well. 

Tears prickled in his eyes as he leaned in, opening his mouth before taking the head inside, swallowing around it for a second before forcing the rest inside the same way the witcher had done weeks ago. He gagged as the tip brushed against the back of his mouth, a few tears spilling over as he kept the cock where it was while his throat convulsed around the intrusion. He had to be good even if he was just a disgusting whore for the man to use and degrade, had to show him he could learn his lesson. 

Geralt let out a pleased hum as he steadied himself, once again parting his legs _just so_ before gripping Jaskier’s chin and forcing him to look up. Retaining the eye contact he sighed and then let go, hungry eyes watching him as the air filled with the smell of piss and shame. 

The gut reaction was for Jaskier to get away, managing to move his head back a few inches due to the loose grip the witcher had on him compared to the last time. He slammed his head into the tree behind him, grunting at the pain as his mouth filled up with the salty liquid. His hands flew up to grab at Geralt’s thighs again, pushing at them and scratching at the fabric to have anything to hold onto as his mind was swimming with the pleasure, humiliation and nausea. It was disgusting, and still he found himself bucking his hips for any friction as his cock still stood straight up into the air. He swallowed down the piss, retching at the taste but not able to move. 

“Knew you were a dirty slut.” Geralt thrust in further, forcing past his struggling throat and going down his gullet. Jaskier’s entire body convulsed at the intrusion, making pitiful sounds as he felt the liquid fill him up and slosh around inside his stomach with every movement he made. He was torn between the heavy fog in his brain making him pliable to the man’s administrations and his natural instinct to puke up the horrid mix inside of him. It all culminated in a long, drawn-out whine as he came all over his clothes and Geralt’s boots, twitching and shuddering as he swallowed down the last drops stuck to his tongue. 

Once again Geralt took a big step back, standing just out of reach as he watched the bard retch and dry heave. Jaskier felt the build-up, the want to be in control overtaken by the need to expel the vile mixture inside of him. He hiccuped and then groaned as it all came back up again, splattering against the dirt below all while the bard sobbed and fisted his hands in his lap. It bubbled up through his nose, Jaskier coughing a few times before he managed to regain control over his body once more. 

He stared at the mess for a few seconds, gagging at the smell and vision as his stomach once again felt so very empty and his head was swimming. He wanted to curl up again, make himself invisible and disappear until he could feel like a normal human again instead of dirty and disgusting _thing_. A low grunt in front of him caught his attention. 

Jaskier looked up just in time for the witcher’s come to land on his face, long ropes of spend staining his cheeks and lips as he sat shaking on the ground. Geralt hummed at the sight, forcing out the last of his orgasm over the bard’s face with his lip caught between his teeth. 

“Next time I ought to teach you to not waste what is given to you, hm?” He slapped his cheek a few times with his softening cock, smirking at the shameful nod Jaskier made as a few remaining tears dropped down from his chin and into the mess below. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts and ideas on my tumblr blog @whaticannotshowyou !  
> Please comment if you enjoyed!


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